Thursday, April 12, 2012

Out of all the
beers I’ve managed to review on this blog, The Lost Abbey brews are perhaps the
most fun to spill some ink over, so to speak. Not only are these brews so
pleasurable and oftentimes eventful to drink, but The Lost Abbey’s sometimes apocalyptic
and post-modern themes about heaven and hell and challenging boundaries are
testimony to a brewery that completely appreciates the value and joy of not
just a beer’s taste and aromatics, but the fun one gets from artful packaging
that’s both holistic and thematically-connected. In each of the three samples
I’ve reviewed here (10 Commandments, Avant Garde, and Judgment day), the
bottle’s labels border on the realm of mesmerizing and make for wonderful
conversation while sharing its contents. The value added from The Lost Abbey’s
packaging is akin to the value added by purchasing a music album, with its
easily accessible artwork and text, versus the bland act of simply downloading
the album (legally of course). In short, while packaging will never turn a bad
beer into a good one, it will make the pleasure of drinking a good beer all the
more pleasurable. And this was precisely my experience with The Lost Abbey
Judgment Day.

The Brewery

Founded in 2006,
The Lost Abbey or Port Brewing is located San Marcos, California – a
medium-sized city located about 20 miles (32 km) north of San Diego. The
brewery offers about six regular beers, another six seasonal variants, and four
of what they refer to as “non-denominational ales” – i.e. ones that don’t
comport with any well-established beer style. Hence, not only does The Lost
Abbey clearly value a good sense of humor, but their product line appears to
reflect a blend of conventionalism and innovation, or perhaps “reformation”
(see my 10 Commandments review for a somewhat quirky elaboration on this point).

The Bottle

Judgment Day,
along with other Lost Abbey brews, are some of the most eye-catching products. The
packaging, with a towering, almost gothic-like bottle affixed with a cork and
well-designed artwork, really does speak volumes to The Lost Abbey’s sometimes-apocalyptic
brewing theme. In the case of Judgment Day, the theme is the coming of the
apocalypse, where according to the Lost Abbey’s website presentation for JudgmentDay, “the sunny blue pastoral skies turn sickly black revealing the imminent
demise of every soul caught between heaven and hell”. Then come the Four
Horsemen of the Apocalypse, who are depicted on the bottle’s purple and black
label and collectively symbolize conquest, war, famine, and death. Indeed,
God’s eternal judgment has arrived, and The Lost Abbey’s page wraps up with the
appropriate sales pitch: “Challenge yourself to embrace passion, persistence
and a motivated way of life. So that when Judgment Day arrives from nowhere,
you’ll go out knowing full well that you’ve lived your life on your terms and
they can’t take that away from you”.

The Beer

Without a
doubt, The Lost Abbey products I’ve sampled are tributes to “passion,
persistence and a motivated way of life”, and Judgment Day is no different. Brewed
with raisins, this 10.5 percent ABV abbey quad is a fine representation of this
style and, in some ways, it’s in a class of its own. Grabbing the bottle and
forcefully pulling off the cork immediately releases a brief hiss and then a
pop, just as any beer in this price range should do. When pouring Judgment Day into
a glass, the translucent, super dark brown body and well-retained, two-finger beige
head yields a fair lacing matrix. Aroma? Well, Judgment Day is anything but apocalyptic!
The smell of raisins is definitely forward, as is the sweet malts and a distinct
candy-like note, all or which blend well with the barely noticeable alcohol tone.
Faint woody and perhaps vanilla notes are also present. Overall, the nose is
seriously powerful, complex, and predicts a very sweet brew.

The mouthfeel
is pleasant, with a somewhat syrupy feel and a moderate amount of carbonation. Judgment
Day’s flavor is remarkably similar to the aroma. Again, raisins and malts
clearly dominate, and if you close your eyes, it almost feels like drinking
some sort of syrupy raisin juice (although I must admit to never trying that).
This beast is all sweetness, and perhaps a just a tad too candy sweet for my
palate. But, while the alcohol note is surprisingly well restrained (especially
when compared to the roughness of The Lost Abbey’s 10 Commandments), the
alcohol’s warming sensation plays out nicely with the sweetness. And, while the
hop references gain just a bit of prominence in the finish, I suspect that a
hoppier finish may have helped to balance out that sweetness.

All in all, The
Lost Abbey Judgment Day is an amazingly sweet and complex beer, and pairing
raisins with this particular beer style is well thought through. And, if the
Four Horsemen were to descend on all of us today, I would indeed be happy to
have Judgment Day around as one of my final beers before God’s eternal judgment.

Sunday, April 8, 2012

Setting expectations
is always risky, especially when applying them to beer. On the one hand, spending
time anticipating a beer’s quality is part of the joy behind letting the beer
cellar for a few months and routinely peeking at the bottle as it sits patiently
maturing. On the other hand, expectations can really be a letdown when the beer
fails to live up to the hype. Fortunately for me, and for my close friend and
partner in beer, Mikkeller’s Beer Geek Brunch Weasel not only lived up to our expectations,
but actually shattered them by being nearly everything expected and more.

Indeed, we did
everything humanly possible to raise our expectations and savor the process of
anticipation. Upon purchasing Beer Geek Brunch back in early October, I
immediately placed it in the cellar and would occasionally take a peek at it as
the bottle sat on the self. I read and watched some reviews of it, showed the
bottle off to some of my neighbors while talking a bit about how it was brewed,
and then finally set a date to share it with my friend. For his part, he spent
some quality time sipping away on Mikkeller’s
other notable stout, namely the Beer Geek Breakfast, and admiring it’s powerful
coffee profile. All in all, the stakes were considerably high when the Weasel climax
– or what might have otherwise been an anti-climax of epic proportions – unfolded
in the night of the actual session. As an added bonus, my friend coincidentally
had a vinyl release of Weasels Ripped my
Flesh by The Mothers of Invention, and we thought this was an appropriate
music selection for our Beer Geek Brunch Weasel experience. And so the session
begins.

The Brewer

While
Mikkeller officially hails from Copenhagen, Mikkel Borg Bjergsø, Mikkeller’s
brewmaster, manager, and the ‘mother of invention’ behind Beer Geek Brunch,
brews beer in a variety of locations throughout Europe and the United States. Mikkeller’s
Beer Geek Brunch, along with the Beer Geek Breakfast, is brewed at Nøgne Ø,
which lies in Grimstad – a small rural community along the southern coast of
Norway. Both Mikkeller and Nøgne Ø brew some of the finest products in
Scandinavia, and I cannot think of more logical collaboration of sorts or a
collaboration where expectations are a relatively safe bet to place.

The Animal

Mikkeller’s
Beer Geek Brunch Weasel feels quite a bit like Mikkeller’s Beer Geek Breakfast.
Indeed, both are oatmeal stouts, and both are brewed with gourmet coffee. However,
the former rounds out with a whopping 10.9 percent ABV while the latter stands
at a 7.5 percent ABV. More interesting still, Beer Geek Brunch has a more
robust coffee and dark chocolate synthesis, and based on the title of my previous Beer Geek Breakfast post, that says a lot about the amazing quality of Beer
Geek Brunch. Without a doubt, part of this robustness is connected to the
feature ingredient used in Beer Geek Brunch – namely the Vietnamese cà phê chồn, or what English speakers refer to as weasel coffee.

So, what’s this cà phê chồn all
about? Well, for starters, the term cà phê chồn does implicate coffee,
but it does not really have much to do with weasels. Instead, the animal in
question is the civet, or the asian palm civet to be exact, which is a member
of the Viverridae family rather than the weasel’s
Mustelidae family. Perhaps the more well-known English term for the civet is toddycat (see Wikipedia).

What makes the civet so important for coffee and for beer is its diet
and what is done with the byproducts of that diet. For starters, civets eat a
variety of berries, including coffee berries, and the animal
selects only the finest and most
mature coffee beans and then excretes them a day or so later. Afterwards,
workers gather the partially digested coffee beans from the civet’s dropping (See About.com). The beans are then thoroughly washed, sun
dried, and lightly roasted (See Wikipedia), and are
ultimately used to brew some of the world’s most expensive coffees and to brew
this fine Mikkeller oatmeal stout. Yes, when drinking Beer Geek Brunch, you are
also consuming the remnants of partially digested coffee beans! Yummy, right?
Well, yes it is in fact.

The resulting product from “civet coffee beans” is sometimes referred to
as civet coffee, or kopi luwak in Indonesia. In Vietnam, which
is where Mikkeller’s civet beans originate, civet coffee is sometimes referred to
as fox-dung coffee, where the alteration in the bean’s protein structure brought on by
the digestive process is hypothesized as the reason for why the resulting
coffee is richer, full-bodied, and somewhat syrupy (See Wikipedia).
To be sure, this richness is plainly evident in Mikkeller’s Beer Geek Brunch.

The Beer

Now back to
our session. Popping the cap and pouring it into a glass reveals the
unmistakable stout signatures: The body appears with a super dark brown color
and a dense, medium-sized brown head that settles comfortably into a thin brown
foam. As an added aesthetics, a faint burgundy color appears at the point where
the beer kisses the side of the glass. While still tight and sticky, the lacing
of Beer Geek Brunch is a bit more timid than what is found in the Beer Geek
Breakfast, although that can be expected with a higher ABV brew. In terms of the
nose, Beer Geek Brunch is perhaps the most aromatic stout we’ve ever come
across: In a word, it was so amazingly climatic not because of its complexity
per se, but in the way the aromas blended together in a powerful and seamless presentation.
The show kicks off with a generous blast of bitter, dark chocolate and then
seamlessly transitions into a powerful roasted coffee nose. At the same time, semi-sweet
malts and light licorice tones dance around in the background. After about
three seconds of an uninterrupted sniff, the aromas come together in what
really struck me as a sort of smoked, blackstrap molasses.

What was
perhaps the most amazing was the almost perfect match between the nose and the
taste. Taking a generous mouthful comes with a mild amount of carbonation, a
creamy mouthfeel, and an instant explosion of dark chocolate, with a rapid
transition to roasted coffee and a smoked-like blackstrap molasses synthesis in
the finish. At the same time, a faint licorice reference appears, disappears,
and then reappears throughout the show. Aside from a warming sensation during
the finish, when Beer Geek Brunch is served at its proper temperature, an edgy
and somewhat distracting alcohol tone is virtually absent. While a few other
stouts out there may have a wider spectrum of flavors, Beer Geek Brunch
presents the flavors in a way that, in our view, is simply unrivaled. And for
me personally, presentation is an important part of the beer experience.

Without a
doubt, placing and raising our expectations on Mikkeller’s Beer Geek Brunch paid
enormous dividends. When considering the time we spent anticipating its aromas
and flavors, and then having those expectations exceeded by leaps and bounds,
Beer Geek Brunch has perhaps been one of the most enjoyable beer experiences we’ve
ever come across. In our view, this is a nearly flawless brew, and one that is
surely a risk worth taking.

Thursday, April 5, 2012

Founded in 2006,
The Lost Abbey or Port Brewing is located San Marcos, California – a
medium-sized city located about 20 miles (32 km) north of San Diego. The
brewery offers about six regular beers, another six seasonal variants, and four
of what they refer to as “non-denominational ales” – i.e. ones that don’t
comport with any well-established beer style. Hence, not only does The Lost
Abbey clearly value a good sense of humor, but their product line appears to
reflect a blend of conventionalism and innovation, or perhaps “reformation”
(see my 10 Commandments review for a somewhat quirky elaboration on this point).

Avant Garde is
what The Lost Abbey refers to as a “farmhouse-styled ale”, although their website,
like their apparent brewing philosophy generally, shuns the notion of
classifying this brew. In their words, “some might want to label this as a beer
brewed in the Bière de Garde tradition of Northern France. We would prefer to
say it was brewed in the Avant Garde [italics
my own] style of beers that will reward all those who seek the not so ordinary”.
These are fine words, but does their brew really live up to this aspiration?

Well, for
starters, modernists like me just love our classification schemas, and indeed
to a fault in some respects. So, be it Bière de Garde or avant-garde, things
become clearer – or so it seems – when the world around us comports with the
known. And the folks over at Ratebeer and BeerAdvocate both describe Avant
Garde as exemplar of the well-known Bière de Garde tradition. From Northern
France historically, these “farmhouse ales” are generally top-fermented, and to
avoid the sometimes-funky behavior of yeast in the warmer summer-month
temperatures, this style was traditionally brewed in farmhouses during the cooler
winter and spring months (see Wikipedia). Still,
farmhouse ales are intended for consumption during the summer and autumn, and
hence any respectable Bière de Garde should be a refreshing summertime treat (see bieredegarde.com).
And Lost Abbey’s Avant Garde is certainly one of those treats.

Grabbing the
bottle and forcefully pulling off the cork immediately releases a brief hiss
and then a pop, just as any beer in this price range should do. When pouring the
Avant Garde into a glass, the hazy, medium-amber body and two-finger white head
are signs of what’s to come: an enticingly sweet beverage with lots to offer
its drinker. Swirling the glass a bit reveals a decent amount of lacing, but perhaps
a tad less than what I expected. Aroma? Well, Avant Garde is not all that
powerful, but spending some time nurturing it in the glass indeed pays
dividends: Think fresh sweet bread, a bit of grains and grass, and a sort of
well-aged feel. Fruity notes, or berries perhaps, are also discernable, as is a
slight nutty tone. However, the caramel note was not as forthcoming as
expected.

The mouthfeel
is simply outstanding, where the full and effervescent body, along with the
multiplicity of subtle flavors, coalesces into an absolutely refreshing, but
eventful beer. When compared to the aroma, Avant Garde’s flavor is far more
fruity and reminiscent of thoroughly ripe yellow apples and berries. A bready
flavor lurks in the background and is much more timid when compared to its
pointed presentation in the nose. Hop references are virtually absent, just as
it should be for this particular style of beer. And while the spicy note is
subtle, it becomes a bit more focuses toward the dry and largely sweet finish.

The Lost Abbey
would probably like us to avoid reviewing Avant Garde up against a well-known traditional
beer style – namely Bière de Garde, and instead review it as a style of its own
or up against its supposed avant-garde nature. Either way, we’re dealing with
classes, and aside from the focused spicy note in the finish, Avant Garde does
not clearly cross the boundaries into the avant-garde per se and is instead an
excellent representation of the Bière de Garde tradition. And there is absolutely
nothing wrong with that.

About Me

Obviously, Stunetii is an internet handle – one that I have been using since my first CompuServe login back in 1995 on a computer that today must seem like a stone tablet. Like you, I am (among other things) passionate about the multifaceted pleasures of beer – from its tastes and aromas to simply gazing at its bubbly properties. In terms of aesthetics, beer is, in my view, like no other drink.
I am a completely novice beer reviewer whose quest here is to casually chart some of the beer I sample. In my blog postings, I simply describe the qualities of the beer according to my own tastes and, to some extent, according to the guidelines laid out by the BJCP program. In other words, my reviews attempt to capture both the subjective and objective aspects my beer samples, although it is completely possible that I sometimes fail in each. If you think one of my reviews are way off the mark, please feel free to comment with a few (kind) words.
Please note, the dates of the posts do not necessarily reflect the timing of the sample, as I have a lot of tasting notes that have yet to be editorialized.